View from the Rooftop
by Mikutachi
Summary: Maya and Miyavi are friends. Best friends. But things change; People move on. Right? Don't they? miyavi x maya , maya x aiji , miyavi x reita. MATURE CONTENT; MALEXMALE RELATIONSHIP.
1. prologue

_i. - prologue._

* * *

Going on tour means you're focused.

Going on tour means you're on the road for two months, away from the people you love.

Going on tour means your manager takes away your cell phone for said two months to maintain said focus.

When you start in June, you won't be done until it's nearly August.

It's like a summer vacation you're paid to take.

Usually, Maya doesn't mind these. He takes his summer vacations in stride, and does each live with Aiji with a grin and a wink.

He isn't ever one to suspect that anything could be different when he returns.

* * *

_last chapter: none. _

_next chapter:ii.ut defero_

AN. - I really don't know how far I'm going with this one. If you like it, leave some feedback for me :3


	2. ut defero

_ii. - ut defero._

* * *

"Maya-tan, Aiji-kun, congratulations on completing your tour."

Their manager: a stern, businesslike man named Bashou Misoka. His face is lined, and he's quite solemn despite his congratulating LM.C on a long summer.

He pulls two objects out of his pocket and holds one out to both musicians. "You may have your cell phones back now. Good work."

Maya grins.

Flips his phone open.

"Thanks, Chief." He pushes a few buttons contentedly and turns to Aiji, who remains rather apathetic, staring out from behind his bangs.  
"Back in the loop," Aiji's mouth twitches into a crooked sort of smile.

Maya licks his lips, his grin unchanging. "Yeah."

"Let's go home."

* * *

_last chapter: i.prologue_

_next chapter: ii.remeo dormio  
_


	3. remeo dormio

_iii - remeo dormio._

* * *

It's late. Too late for a homecoming.

Maya feels like he's wasted a perfectly good summer vacation, and he doesn't even know the time.

The door swings open amiably to let him into his deserted, dust-covered apartment, with the chords he'd been singing all summer buzzing in his ears like cicadas in the summer heat.

He throws his suitcases down and a digital clock on a table stares him in the face, challenging him.

Three AM.

Maya sneers at the clock and turns his back on it to stare out the sliding glass door at the city outside his window. He frowns slightly and steps forward and presses his hand against the cool glass, greeting Tokyo with a sweep of his tired eyes across the skyline.

The city glitters back at him with a cloud of smog in its wake. Maya sighs, with what could be relief. Tokyo: Just as he had remembered.

He turns around again and faces the clock. The glow holds a kind of stubbornness, saying that, Maya thinks. He falls onto the bed next the the clock on the table, not even bothering to change.

He falls asleep.

The date is now July 30th.

* * *

_last chapter: ii.ut defero_

_next chapter: iv.counting the minutes  
_


	4. counting the minutes

_iv.counting the minutes._

* * *

Maya wakes up, six hours later, to the sound of his cell phone beeping incessantly from the inside of his front pocket. He ignores it for a moment but picks it out without really thinking and presses it to his ear. Rubbing his eyes, his mouth opens and he speaks.

"..Moshimoshi?" He says, sleep smearing his words together.

"Hey, birthday boy. You awake?"

The voice is familiar. Playful, allusive. Maya's mind was still asleep; the inflections in the voice were sounds he had heard every day, at some time, but he couldn't quite remember, couldn't quite place it, it was just too early to possibly--

"Mnn... What time is it?"

"Geez, you hung over or something?"

Oh, right, Maya thinks. That's who it is.

The voice belongs to a man called Miyavi. Unconsciously, Maya smiles. Lays back against the pillows. Miyavi's voice is comfortable and smooth. Familiar.

"No, I just got in late."

"Hmm. Well, exhausted or not, you're coming to my place today."

"And why?"

"It's your birthday, right? I have a surprise with your name written on it..."

Miyavi's voice is ever so suggestive. Maya grins, though Miyavi can't see him. "What would you say if I could be over in an hour?"

"I'd say I'm counting the minutes, koibito..."

* * *

_last chapter: __iii.remeo dormio_

_next chapter: v.home  
_


	5. home

_v.- home._

* * *

An hour later, Maya has managed to pull himself together.

They sit at Miyavi's kitchen table, a small white cake between them. The candles burn plaintively, and Miyavi moves to Maya's side of the table, wrapping an arm around Maya's waist.

This is what Maya has been missing: Just he and Miyavi and all the time in the world.

"Blow them out," Miyavi says, voice low, excitement clear. Maya does so, and Miyavi kisses him cutely on the cheek, like he always does. And for the first time in two months, Maya feels at home.

"Vanilla's your favorite, right?" Miyavi asks suddenly.

"Yes."

Miyavi only really spoke to hear Maya's voice. He grins like a devil and cuts the cake in half, moving back to sit opposite the blonde-haired man.

"Happy birthday, koibito."

Maya sighs. Home. His smile is bright like summer, and Miyavi pushes a plate with his half of cake toward him.

"So why haven't I heard from you in two months, Mayatan?" There is frosting in the corner of Miyavi's mouth.

"Chief took away my cell phone on tour. You know, Ba-chan? He's pretty strict with us."

"He took away your cell phone? How lame." Miyavi is grinning, but his eyes are desperate: they tell Maya that something had happened while he was away.

Something isn't the same.

Just as Maya tilts his head and opens his mouth to ask, the front door opens and an unfamiliar voice cuts through Maya's chest.

"I'm home. Mikkun, you here?"

* * *

_previous chapter: the minutes_

_next ._


	6. mathematics

_vi. mathematics._

_

* * *

_"Oh," Miyavi's eyes travel away from Maya's face to find the person who had spoken. "I wasn't expecting you home until later."

The owner of the voice steps into view.

Black eyes.

He pauses in the doorway, and the black eyes focus suspiciously on Maya. Miyavi seems a little jumpy as the man speaks.

"I didn't realize you had company," His voice sounds contradictory and rough.

Miyavi grins to cover.

"It's Mayatan's birthday." He can't diguise the quiver in his voice. The way he swallows after he speaks and brushes the hair out of his eyes and glances at Maya.

Maya's not stupid, but when presented with simple equations, he struggles.

Miyavi + Black eyes = ?

Maya is fascinated with his own confusion.

Miyavi stands, and Black eyes comes forward, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

"Mayatan... This is Reita." Miyavi chews at the side of his mouth. "He moved in with me last week."

Reita?

This only perplexes Maya more. It only adds a name to the senseless equation, which only continues to become more complicated in his mind.

Miyavi + Reita + Apartment sharing = ?

Then, suddenly, it dawns on him. The missing variable. The reason for Miyavi's nervousness.

Miyavi + Reita + Apartment sharing x Two month's absence = _more than just friends._

"Moved in...?" Maya stares blankly.

He can't help but feel replaced. It wasn't so long ago when Maya and Miyavi had more or less breathed each other, like oxygen.

"Yes."

Miyavi remembers that time, and it shows on his face.

The black-eyed man called Reita smiles.

"It's nice to meet you, Mayatan." He says. "Mikkun talks about you a lot."

Mikkun.

So that's how it is, Maya thinks.

Maya also thinks that Reita's smile is frosty and cold, like a cruel winter's night.

* * *

_previous chapter: v. home._

_next chapter: vii. replaced.  
_


	7. replaced

_vii. replaced._

_

* * *

  
_

"I should go," Maya says quietly.

Miyavi doesn't stop him.

Maya takes the long way home, to try and sort out his thoughts.

Miyavi, his best friend, his ex-leader, his now-former lover, his oxygen, had found a new flame. Maya feels like his own internal flame has been extinguished, like part of him has been roughly shoved out of the way and into the gutter. The cold black eyes flash across his thoughts and he chews on his lip, not noticing that it was bleeding.

The summer heat as he walks down the sidewalk, thinking about himself. Thinking about Miyavi. What had he expected when he got home from a summer on tour? - That something would remain the same: More specifically, his relationship with Miyavi.

Maya trudges up the stairs and into his apartment. Leans against the sliding glass door, looking upward.

Outside the sliding glass door, there is a tiny balcony and a ladder, bolted firmly and absolutely to the wall. It's on days like these, when Maya doesn't desire any further human contact, that he feels so inclined to climbed the ladder. The ladder leads all the way up to the roof, where Maya can be alone with his thoughts.

He slides the door open and climbs up and up, and collapses onto the rooftop, layng on his back with his eyes closed, against the rough surface of the building.

The only thing Maya can think about are black eyes. Black eyes and white birthday cake.

He exhales sharply and sits up, pulling out a box of cigarettes.

Happy birthday.

* * *

_previous chapter: vi. mathematics._

_next chapter: viii. you're lying._


	8. you're lying

_viii. you're lying._

_

* * *

  
_

Unfortunately for Maya, Aiji knows exactly where to find him when he's not in his apartment and he won't answer his phone.

Atop the ladder, Aiji realizes he's probably interrupted something, but pulls himself up onto the roof anyway.

Maya is still laying flat on his back, staring up at the sky, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Aiji sits down next to him and says nothing.

A not-so-silent silence follows, filled with the sound of cars racing by down below.

Finally, Aiji speaks.

"I've been trying to call you all morning, Mayatan. Is your cell phone off?"

"Cell phone?" Maya asks, his words slightly impaired by the cigarette. Two days ago, his cell phone was important to him. His hands reach up to rub his eyes. "I don't know..."

Aiji tilts his head a little.

"Well, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday,"

The words hit Maya like icy water, and he turns his head to look up at Aiji where he sits.

He stubs out his cigarette.

"It's not my birthday," He says quietly, and looks back up at the sky. This isn't denial. Aiji tilts his head a little more.

"Liar," He replies, his voice low, his eyes dark. He smoothes the hair out of Maya's face, and stares down.

And down.

And down.

Maya can do nothing but stare back, transfixed.

* * *

_previous chapter: vii. replaced._

_next chapter: ix. too close._


	9. too close

_xi. too close._

_

* * *

  
_

Aiji knows Maya too well.

This is the conclusion Maya comes to after being unable to fall asleep for three consecutive hours.

Aiji knows how to make Maya feel better and how to make Maya feel good. He knows how to sweet-talk him back into the apartment and back through the sliding-glass door and he knows how to...

Maya turns restlessly in the dark and lays on his side, staring at the shape beside him. A sigh. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, wondering if maybe he'd try hard enough, the shape would go away.

It didn't.

Maya sighs again and stares into the darkness, not feeling sleepy at all. The air is hot and humid and the sheets stick to Maya's body. He kicks off the covers only to draw them back up again: he's wearing nothing at all.

And the same goes for the shape asleep next to him:

Aiji is wearing nothing, either.

Perhaps the only difference between the two is that Aiji is asleep and breathing lightly and Maya is staring at the ceiling, upset with himself for what's happened.

He knows that it wasn't the right thing to do, but Aiji knows it better.

Aiji knows Maya better than anyone does, so Maya won't protest.

He won't protest.

* * *

_previous chapter: viii. you're lying._

_next chapter: x. tba._


	10. heat

_x. heat_

* * *

The worst part is that it's still stiflingingly hot inside Maya's apartment, and it doesn't help that the sleeping figure from before hasn't moved an inch, giving off enough body heat to rival the morning sun.

Maya's eyes flicker open, and he immediately wishes he were asleep again. He yawns, and realizes that his mouth is dry as concrete.

So, he stumbles out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants laying on the ground. Are they his or Aiji's...?

Maya decides that it doesn't matter.

He trips his way into the kitchen, intending to get a cup of water to cure the desert in his mouth. But as soon as he's filled a cup and brought it to his lips, Aiji is leaning against the doorframe.

Maya stares like he's still dreaming.

"Good morning," Aiji is, somehow, fully dressed. "I'm going to leave."

Maya nods, blank. No words, not as Aiji slips away without a word.

_Nice to see you too_, he thinks.

Vaguely, he wonders if anyone he loves will stay long enough to believe him.

* * *

_last chapter: close.  
_

_next chapter: .  
_


	11. waiting

_xi. waiting_

* * *

The months pass as thoughtlessly as Maya's summer. The minutes and hours pass sluggishly, but the days fly off the calendar before Maya has the chance to say hello, much less good-bye. The sense that he's wasting time is first and foremost on Maya's mind. He feels restless now that he's been given time off from being LM.C's Mayatan.

And it doesn't help that his life has changed its beat almost overnight since the hot, unbearable summer night Maya is trying so hard to scrub off his conscience.

But, like a streak of red across a white dress, it won't wash away.

And Maya knows it. He knows it will stay, invariably, staining his conscience with deliberate brush strokes and heavy colors, no matter how many cold showers he takes.

* * *

_last chapter: close_

_next chapter:  
_


	12. vacation

_xii. vacation_

_

* * *

  
_

Miyavi has become nothing but a memory.

A voice on the radio.

_(Not that he ever takes the time to listen to the voice whenever it comes on. The dial on the radio has never been so lonely.)_

Sometimes Maya remembers that he used to know a man called Miyavi, but these days he just doesn't see it. But even so, sometimes, in his mind, the old Miyavi still calls him.

"I miss you," Miyavi says.

"Oh yeah?" Maya's really nothing but a ghost. "Is that the truth?"

The ghost of a Maya feels less human than he ever has, because the only way he sees the world now is from atop a roof, through sad eyes.

But those damn calendar days, even with extended daylight hours, slipp past Maya faster than he anticipated; September had fast approached and before he knew it, it was time to stop being a ghost and time to start being Mayatan again.

* * *


	13. interlude

_xiii. interlude_

_

* * *

  
_

With all the effort Maya has put into trying to forget Miyavi, you'd think that he'd have done it by now.

But he hasn't.

He's numb, sure. Doesn't feel a thing.

But there's still that nagging in the back of his mind.

Always that tiny, tiny voice:

"_What if--?_"

Maya doesn't want to think about it, and that's why he sleeps for three-and-a-half days straight before returning to work.

* * *

_last: xi. vacation_

_next: xiv. september  
_


	14. september, part one

_xiv. september, part one_

* * *

When he finally wakes up and scrubs the sleep out of his eys, the ghost who is supposed to be Mayatan realizes that he doesn't want to see Aiji again.

So he drags himself out of bed and gets dresssed.

Often he remembers at inopportune moments what that night was like. The breathless heat and the pain and the pleasure and how he can still smell the older man on his sheets, even after scrubbing them raw.

The ghost who was Maya laughs because he can't seem to forget anything he wants to, not even when cold tears begin to fall. A body's instinct when it's injured is to heal itself so it can function normally. Mayatan thinks that his must be broken, but there's not much he can do about it.

Outside, late summer taunts him through the sunlight and Maya ignores it to the best of his ability.

Life without oxygen, he thinks, is rather difficult.

* * *

_last: xiii. interlude_

_next: xv. september, part two_


	15. september, part two

_xv. september, part two._

* * *

Maya is instructed to meet Aiji at his apartment.

He arrives silently and is invited inside, feeling very much the stranger and rather like he doesn't know his bandmate much at all.

They stand in Aiji's living room for several minutes, staring at one another wordlessly from across the room.

"You look terrible," is the first thing Aiji says to Maya.

Maya doesn't reply, keeps his head down.

And Aiji laughs.

"Rough summer, hm?"

"Maybe."

They are supposed to be writing songs for a new album.

"It's been awhile, you know," Aiji's voice is low. "Since…"

Maya's eyes shift up. "Since?" He sets his jaw. He knows full well what Aiji's referring to. After all, he's spent all summer not getting the stain off his conscience.

Aiji smirks. "You never called."

"You never told me to."

Aiji is making his way across the room. Maya stands leaning casually, defensively against a wall, watching the brunette with dusky eyes. Aiji inches nearer.

"How come you didn't call, Mayatan?" Clearly he hadn't heard Maya's blunt reply. "We were supposed to hang out."

"I was busy." Maya mumbles. He can't know the truth.

"Busy…" Aiji croons. He's gone across the room now and is standing dangerously close to Maya, close enough to run his hands through Maya's blonde hair. "But you always pick up your phone."

"Maybe I didn't want to talk to you." Venom.

Aiji almost looks surprised, but if he were he hides it quickly. "I see." He moves his arm up and leans it against the wall above Maya's head, even more dangerously close than before. Maya can feel Aiji's breath on his face, and the brunette traces Maya's jawline with strong fingers, smirking. "So, you talked to Miyavi lately?"

Maya looks away. "No," he whispers, like Aiji knows. "No, not at all."

"Aiji makes somewhat of a decisive noise. "That's interesting," he says, bringing his hand away from the blonde's face. "Usually you only ever talk to him."

"I _know_," Maya won't let his voice break. Won't won't won't won't won't.

"What happened?"

Maya doesn't answer.

He doesn't answer because of a sudden urge to hurt Aiji as badly as he can. He looks the brunette in the eyes with a venomous, piercing stare, clenching his jaw, holding his breath. Finally, he breaks the gaze because he can't handle it and looks out the window, away from his bandmate's face.

"Fuck you," Maya mumbles. "Fuck. You."

To Maya's surprise, Aiji's smirk widens. He leans in close, their lips just centimeters to touching. "So, Mayatan," He murmurs. "Why didn't you call?"

It doesn't take much, Maya realizes, for Aiji to manipulate him.

After all, he knows Maya better than anyone else knows him. Even the man called Miyavi.

No, it doesn't take much.

And that's how, somehow, 'fuck you' spat with venom off of Maya's tongue morphs into 'fuck me.'

* * *

_last: xiv. september, part one_

_next: xvi. no will  
_


End file.
